Friday, February 26, 2010

... I declare today Flashback Friday. (And, of course, because I can.)

If you're new to Halfglassistan, you may not have been properly introduced yet to my alter ego Cat Con. Following isa shameless rerun on my partan accounting of one of her appearances this past summer.

And now, for your adoration entertainment, may I present the obnoxiously awesome delightful legend in my own mind.

Cat Con showed up one day last week to multi-task for me. She does the laundry here at TWHQ. Frankly, she is as slack about it as I am, but I hate doing it that much. Enough to make my imaginarybest friend do it.

Mr. J was the chief domestic engineer before going and getting cancer and needing to move to the first floor. The laundry room is on the second floor. Coincidence? I think not. Great! Way to ensure that laundry never rarely sometimes only in cases of no underwear and clean towels gets done.

So, of course, Cat Con was singing. The Beatles popped up in a three-song set on my player. Which had the randomizer set. Random? I think not. I think it was a sign from the rock star gods that Cat Con was to kick it.

So she did. Warmed up with "Let It Be." Got slow and soulful with "Yesterday." And belted out "Hey Jude," right down to all the "judee-judee-judee-judee-judee"s and even had the crowd waving their arms back and forth to all the "na-na-na-nananana-nananana-he-eey-jude"s.

Wait. What? Ye-e-e-e-s, there was a crowd. On the second floor of TWHQ. In the laundry room. (Was there a crowd? What the hell kind of a rock star do you think Cat Con is?)

Worn out from that jamming set, the randomizer went off spinning in search of something equally awesome. In the absence of music, Tilly had taken the opportunity to run an obstacle course over, around, and through the piles of laundry, running to the bed and taking flying leaps in between each pile run. (The crowd loved it. Really.)

With Beatles on the brain, a riff from "Baby, You Can Drive My Car" popped into Cat Con's head because it fit Tilly's pace perfectly: "be-beep, be-beep, YEAH!"

So we've got a Tilly running, jumping, leaping at a manic pace. Cat Con is at her loudest pitch with all the "be-beep, be-beep, YEAH!"s. Tilly begins to harmonize with a few barks, and just as she's ready to vault into the sea of fans for some crowd-surfing — (YES, THERE'S A CROWD. sheesh) — I hear Jamie call out from downstairs.

Monday, February 22, 2010

And — one I've been revisiting this past week. I do it every year at this time, but 2010 marks 25 years of time's passage.

It is amazing to me how parts (both good and bad) of that 17-year-old girl still are inside me.

And I like it that way. She keeps me honest. And she keeps me strong. Stronger than she ever knew was possible.

I'm glad she grew up, and I wish she could meet who she grew up to be. She'd ask where her two children are (twins, boy and a girl), is her S-class Benz being detailed, why is she not working for the Trib — and, wait! what the hell happened to the Trib?! What the hell happened to all the newspapers?!

Over a cup of coffee — two sugars, cream (still) — I'd tell her all about the last quarter-century. To which, she'd probably say, "Damn, we're old."

To which I'd shake my head, smile, and say: "Nope. Not at all. We're here. We're still here."

Thursday, February 18, 2010

"... Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threatsToo noble to neglectDeceived me into thinkingI had something to protectGood and bad, I define these termsQuite clear, no doubt, somehow.Ah, but I was so much older then,I'm younger than that now."

Friday, February 12, 2010

This information is in no way attributed to my questionablepoornon-existent math skills. Rather, my love of musical theater brought this little gem of chronology into my knowledge base. (Thank you, Jonathan Larson)

Five thousand. Twenty-five hundred. Six hundred. The number seems even larger when written out. Then you add the word minutes, and it seems to shrink again. Minutes seem to give that number the power to fly — fly by, as if when one, two and three of those 525,600 units were just yesterday. Yet they also seem a lifetime ago.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Rather, we are of a mind that if you mean to do something, then you can make up your mind to do it any day of the year.

Having said that, it has come to my attention that we do, perhaps, subscribe to the theory of resolutions made at the dawn of a new year. Only, our year doesn't necessarily end on December 31. Rather, it ends when football ends.

So with the high gridiron holiday approaching, we have a kitchen stocked with meats, cheeses, salties, sweets, crunchies, chewys, and all manners of numminess. And, a fully appointed bar stands at the ready to take us from breakfast Bloody Marys to midday brews to Kentucky nightcaps.

And, going forward, we need to consume far less of it than we'll be devouring this weekend. And we need to get off our collective masses and exercise more than jumping up and down when the Colts pound the Saints.